He took one long look at her face. “Problem?”

“No. Yes, damn it. She’s locked me out.”

“Carolee?”

“No, not Carolee. My key won’t work on any of the doors back here.”

He simply held out a hand for it, and taking it, walked around to the first door.

The key slid in, turned.

“Works now.”

“I can see that.”

“What did you do to piss her off?”

“I didn’t do anything.” She snatched her key out, started to step inside.

The fireplace came on with a whoosh of flame. Every light began to flash and blink. From where she stood, Hope heard the refrigerator door slam repeatedly.

“Looks like pissed off to me.” Ryder nudged Hope aside.

The minute he stepped inside, all the activity stopped.

“Did this just start up?”

“Yes, just this minute. I don’t know why she’s upset. I’ve put a solid five hours in on the search over the last couple of nights.”

“She’s settled down now.” He started to turn back to the door, and it started again.

He picked up the remote and again switched off the fire. “Cut it out!”

The answer was an audible click of the lock on the door.

“Maybe she’s upset you haven’t been around the last couple of days,” Hope suggested.

Ryder set the remote down. “I got the impression the innkeeper didn’t want me around.”

“You got the wrong impression. I didn’t like you doing something that involved me without talking to me.”

“I didn’t like seeing you get slapped.” He shrugged. “You can’t like everything.”

“I’m not wrong to want you to talk to me.”

“I’m not wrong to stand up for you.”

She started to argue, realized she couldn’t. And didn’t want to. “Tell me I’m not wrong about wanting you to talk to me, and I’ll tell you you’re not wrong to stand up for me.”

“Okay. You first.”

Her laugh snuck through about the same time as his quick, cocky grin. “All right. You’re not wrong.”

“Neither are you. Are we finished with it?”

“No, we’re not. I need to know you’ll consider how I feel.”

Frustration flashed back on his face. “Hope, I considered nothing but. I considered your hurt and your embarrassment. I wasn’t going to let it slide.”

“If you’d just talked to me first—”

“You wouldn’t have talked me out of it. We’d’ve had the fight sooner than we had it, but I’d’ve still gone and said what I had to say.”

“I wouldn’t have talked you out of it,” she agreed. “I would have tried, at first. Then I’d have gone with you.”

He stopped, frowned. “You’d have gone down there?”